


We Promised

by from_scarlet_to_pink



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: After-life, Heaven, M/M, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:29:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/from_scarlet_to_pink/pseuds/from_scarlet_to_pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is exploring what appears to be heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Promised

**Author's Note:**

> This belongs in the same universe as my series 'That's What They Had Agreed On'. But I felt that the series was finished and this piece can also stand alone, instead of adding a part 5. But for background information it might be helpful to look it up (especially to see how we got here in the first place).
> 
>  
> 
> None of those characters are originally mine - for feels etc please blame ACD, Moffat, and Gatiss.

Sherlock had been here for almost three weeks. Eighteen days, to be exact.  
The first three days he spent trying to find out where exactly ‘here’ was. Sherlock never believed in any kind of after-life. He was a man of science, not spirituality. To believe in things such as ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ was ridiculous to him (‘People don’t really go to heaven when they die. They’re taken to a special room and burned.’).  
And yet here he was. In what, for all intents and purposes, could be called ‘heaven’ (‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth’). 

It was bright. It was too bright, really. There really were gates one walked through. You had no choice about that. The gates led to an atrium, where paths split up and led to… well, what appeared to be personalised heavens.  
Sherlock could feel a strong pull coming from one of the paths, and after he followed it, saw a door that looked just like the one leading to 221b. He opened it and was greeted with the smell of Mrs Hudson’s cooking and John’s favourite tea. But nobody was there. Which made sense. Both Mrs Hudson and John were still alive. All he could do was to hope that one day – hopefully far, far away – they would both find their way to this version of their home.  
Then again, John may find someone and live a happy life yet. Part of Sherlock wished this for the man he left behind, another part raged with jealousy. 

Staying in this empty version of Baker Street didn’t hold much interest for Sherlock. Not yet at least. Maybe at some point he would come back to see if his violin would be waiting for him. For now, he made his way back to the atrium to look for something to do.  
His deduction skills had not diminished and so he managed to solve murder cases when he saw some people walking through the gates. Of course, the murderers couldn’t be brought to justice, as there was no way of communication to the ‘other side’ but it was something for Sherlock to do and it sometimes provided closure for the victims. Those who hadn’t known what had happened, at least.  
Some days, Sherlock explored other people’s heavens. It kept up his skills in hiding, and deceiving when caught.  
He never went to seek out specific places, such as Moriarty’s ‘heaven’ – he hadn’t quite figured out yet, if there was an actual ‘hell’. He simply walked through open doors if they presented themselves to him.  
On other days, Sherlock would spend time in the atrium, watching the people who came through the gates, waiting for another murder to solve, another puzzle to work on.

Sherlock hurt every time someone walked through the gates who resembled John in any way. Someone who had the same colour hair, someone who wore incredibly tasteless jumpers (cozy as they might be), someone who had the same gait. The list went on and on.  
John was missing. Thank heavens for that. John was alive. The world without John would be an incredibly dreary place. Still. Being without John was… a bit not good. 

So Sherlock continued to watch the people coming through the gates. This man had four cats, that man died of blood loss due to blunt force trauma to the head. Maybe he was murdered? Hmm… No. Not interesting enough to follow him. There was a family, car crash victims, obviously. That woman died on the operating table.  
And here was… another one who looked like John. Similar clothing, same height, same hair colour, same… Oh no.

‘John? JOHN!!’  
The man turned around and the final confirmation was given. It was indeed John Watson standing there, searching for the person who called his name. He looked so hopeful. But what had happened? Why was he here?

‘John!’ Sherlock cried out and started to move towards his other half.  
‘Sherlock!!’ John started to run towards him and they stopped, a mere meter apart, just staring at each other. Sherlock didn’t dare touch him, just in case he wasn’t really there.  
After a moment, John broke the spell and threw his arms around the detective’s neck, holding on for dear… ‘life’ wasn’t really the right word, was it?  
‘Oh my God, Sherlock… I found you!’ John turned his head and pressed a kiss on Sherlock’s mouth, who was still too stunned to react.  
‘John… why… how… how are you here?’  
‘I couldn’t… I just… I promised. We promised. “Always come back to each other”. You go and I follow. That’s who we are. That’s what we do. Always.’  
‘John… you promised. You promised to try. We both did.’  
‘Sherlock, after the last time… I mourned you once before. I couldn’t do it again. I swore to never be without you again. Not one day that I don’t have to be. And now I have you back. That’s the most important thing to me. How could I go on without you?’  
Sherlock stared at the man before him. If he thought he had loved this man as much as was possible, he had just proved himself wrong. With tears in his eyes, he pulled John in for a kiss, intending to never let go again.  
‘I love you, Sherlock.’  
‘As I love you. Always. Forever.’

Taking his hand, Sherlock stepped back and led John towards their ‘personal heaven’. For never could Sherlock Holmes and John Watson belong anywhere other than 221b.


End file.
